


Butches, Dishes, and Raccoon Pajamas

by lesbijane



Category: Lumberjanes
Genre: Butch rights!!!, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24732448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbijane/pseuds/lesbijane
Summary: Ripley calls in a secret meeting for three particular Lumberjanes! She's got questions, and she WILL get some answers, gosh darn it. And maybe a cute little shirt for Bubbles along the way, too.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Butches, Dishes, and Raccoon Pajamas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MossGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossGarden/gifts).



> Something for a friend, who wished that there was more open discussion on the butch representation in Lumberjanes! Wrote this in only a few sittings & with minimal copy-editing, so I hope everything's alright, hah.

Mal wondered why Ripley invited her to this… whatever-it-was right at the darkest part of night.

She held her flashlight up to the small sticky-note with Ripley’s handwriting on it. Her letters were all too big, so the words trailed off to the sides.

_SECRET MEETING TODAY!!! Mal Hes Rosie and Ripley (THAT’S ME.) at 11 (PM) in the mess hall._

_(Don’t tell anyone!!)_

She put it carefully back into her pocket. She couldn’t really predict _what_ exactly Ripley was planning. Trying to predict Ripley was like trying to predict the weather. Once you think it’s going to be one thing, the exact opposite happens, right on cue.

Ripley didn’t even give her a hint after handing the post-it to her. “It’s a secret! Wink!” She said, giving a very exaggerated wink at the same time.

Finally, after just another minute of walking through camp and trying her best not to look off into the forest for once, Mal was at the mess hall’s door.

The lights were on, thank goodness. She didn’t think she could handle any more walking in the dark.

The door creaked open, and- “Hey, Undercut!”

Rosie was sitting at one of the tables, not in the center of the room, but just off enough that it made Mal uncomfortable. Hes was next to her, watching intently as Rosie knit something.

“You’re really sure you can make that thing in one sitting, huh?” Hes raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t even _look_ like a sweater yet.”

Rosie chuckled, and shook her head. “I’m sure I can finish this before the end of this… didn’t she call it a party?”

“I thought it was a secret meeting,” Mal said, taking a seat.

“My paper said it was a fiesta,” Hes added. “Also, Rosie, I bet you Zodiac’s week of KP duty that you _won’t_ finish that before the meeting. If you win, we’ll do double.”

Rosie hummed as she kept clicking her needles together. “I’ll be sure to tell them that it was your bet that earned them another week, then.”

Mal smiled at this interaction. “Dang. Hey, Rosie, can you give them our week if you win? Roanoke has _not_ been looking forward to dish-washing duty at all. Whenever we look at the schedule, it feels like the Jaws theme’s gonna play.”

“Hmmm!” Rosie tapped her chin for a second, “You know what, I’ll just add Zodiac to your week, too. The more the merrier, I’ve always said!”

Hes’ smug look faltered for a second. “Hey, wait a minute, we didn’t agree to let the Roanokes in on this deal!”

Mal shrugged. “Hey, kitchen party with another cabin would be faster than on your own, right? I think it’s a win for you.”

Hes took a moment to think this over, obviously mentally weighing the pros (quicker dish washing?) versus the cons. (April and Diane stuck in the same room, along with being assigned chores, did NOT sound like a good situation to be stuck in.)

Mal tapped her fingernails on the table. “Also, uh… what’s all this… for? The Ripley thing, you think?”

All of the sudden, all the lights turned pitch black. Mal nearly jumped into Hes’ arms in the process, while Rosie continued knitting as though nothing had happened.

A spotlight shone down on Ripley, who swiveled around in her seat dramatically to face them all. “So,” Ripley said, petting Bubbles, who was asleep on her lap, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today.”

Mal took some deep breaths, as Hes gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder to help her calm down. “Uh, yeah,” she wheezed between breaths, “That’s exactly what we were literally just talking about.”

Ripley scooted her chair over to the table. It wasn’t on wheels, so it took a few tries to get it over there. “I have a few questions for all of you.” She rested her head in her hands, leaning forward, “I’m sure you can answer them.”

There was a pause. Bubbles snorted in his sleep, and rolled over a little.

Hes coughed.

The lights flickered back on. Mal squinted as her eyes readjusted again.

“Can butches… like wearing dresses sometimes?” Ripley fiddled with her hands.

Hes raised her eyebrows. “So that’s what this is about?”

Ripley nodded. She looked away from the three of them, almost ashamed.

Rosie looked up from her knitting. “Being butch is… more than just what you wear, in my opinion. Of course, dresses aren’t something a butch would go around wearing every day, but it’s complicated.”

“Yeah. Like, I had to wear a skirt with my uniform when my gran came over.” Hes sighed, “She’s real understanding, but a bit old-fashioned sometimes. I didn’t like it, but I could handle it.”

Mal raised a finger, “And I had to wear that dress that time with Louise, remember? I hated every second of it, but I was still a butch!”

“Hmm.” Ripley scratched her chin. “Okay… I’m just wondering ‘cause. I really like protecting girls! And you guys are all super cool and you are so nice all the time, and I want to be like you! But sometimes I also like wearing really sparkly dresses? I don’t know what I am.”

“You don’t _have_ to be butch or femme.” Hes took a glance back at Rosie’s knitting, checking on how it’s been progressing, “Diane isn’t either, and she’s cool.”

“I know that!” Ripley kicked her legs up onto the table, startling Bubbles awake in the process, “Lotsa people here aren’t butch or femme! Like Jo, Jen, Emily, Wren, ‘Kenzie, Barney, April- wait, or is April femme?”

“You’d have to ask her. Sometimes you can tell, like with us,” Mal gestured at Rosie and Hes, “But some people don’t present as… outwardly as us, you know? Like if you were butch, you’d probably have to say it before someone else knew.”

Ripley nodded, and Bubbles hopped off her lap to crawl over to Mal’s instead. “I see…”

“For me, being butch was all about protecting the femmes.” Rosie finished another row of her knitting, and smiled at it, “Times weren’t as accepting back then, which was why we took on those labels. Abby and I would go out, and I’d stand between her and the men who’d yell at her.”

Rosie sighed, “Then, she’d help patch up any of the wounds I’d end up getting if a scuffle would happen. Which was more often than you’d think! We took care of each other.”

Mal narrowed her eyes. “…I thought you and Abigail stopped being friends when you were kids at camp.”

“Hmm?” Rosie looked up from her work, just giving Mal a confused look. “Well, I suppose we did.”

Before Mal could ask anything else, Hes chimed in, “Being butch for me is like… I’ve always had this daydream where I hold a door open for a lot of girls, right? But then, right as a guy tries to walk in, I close it. It’s all about putting people who aren’t guys first, you know? I’m tired of the world putting guys first.”

Ripley nodded solemnly.

“Yeah, I feel like that, too.” Mal snapped her fingers as she tried to think, “Like, Rosie’s stuff is really cool, but the world’s kinda… changed since then. So has what makes someone butch, a bit. But a lot of it’s still the same. I don’t really know, I just… am? I think?”

Rosie set her knitting down on the table – a cheerful cartoon silhouette of a deer on a very small sweater. She rested a hand on both Mal and Hes’ shoulders. “The times might have changed, but I can tell you both still have the spirit. That’s what really counts. It’s something you feel in your heart.”

“Thanks, Rosie,” Mal managed, as she tried her best not to get too emotional in the moment. Hes smiled along with her.

“So.” Ripley reached over to take the sweater from the table, and grabbed Bubbles as well, “Being butch is… protecting girls, but femmes especially. And not forcing yourself to care about boys like everyone else tells you that you should. Cool clothes too?”

The three of them looked over at each other for a second, and then nodded.

“There’s a few more complexities,” Rosie mentioned, “But that’s a good start to your research!”

“Mmmhmmm.” Ripley held Bubbles up, now that she had put the sweater on him. He yawned. “Thank you for your time. And for the sweater for Bubbles, Rosie.”

Hes sighed. Mal gave her a sympathetic look. “At least it’ll be kitchen party with friends?” She muttered. Hes just shook her head.

Mal smiled back at Ripley, “If you have any more questions, you can let us know, too. We’re here for you, no matter what you figure out you want to be.”

“Maybe next time just… ask us upfront instead of putting together a secret butch meeting, though,” Hes added.

“Yup! I’ve got it.” Ripley put Bubbles up on her head like Molly usually did, “Now that I’ve confirmed you’re all butches, these connections will be really important whenever I need to ask more questions about this stuff.”

Hes did her best to smile through the residual disappointment of her lost bet. “You’re a good kid, Rip.”

“Thanks!” Ripley hopped off her chair, and put her hands on her hips. “Now, then, I’ve got a very important meeting with Barney starting in about…” She checked her wrist, which had no watch on it, “Ten minutes, all about gender stuff. Thanks for talking about other gender stuff with me!”

“No prob!” Mal said, as Ripley dashed out the door. “I wonder where all her energy comes from.”

Rosie packed up her knitting needles, and stretched as she stood up. “I think it’s good that she’s curious. This place is safe for kids like her who are still growing and learning who they are.”

“Yeah.” Mal wondered what she would have been like if she had somewhere like this when she was younger. Sure, she had those old photos of her mom that she’d loved to look at and think about cutting her hair, but she never really had anyone else older than her who was like the way she was now.

She was glad Ripley had this. She was glad that every camper had this right now – herself included.


End file.
